


In the End

by Lyfurn



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I just needed to get this out before I exploded, Spoilers, Two Endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyfurn/pseuds/Lyfurn
Summary: She never really had a choice.
Relationships: Constantin d'Orsay & De Sardet, Constantin d'Orsay/De Sardet
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contrary to my summary, de Sardet does actually have a choice. There are two chapters; the second has an alternate ending. Perhaps if you don't like the first, you can try the second? ;)

_“All you have to do is bind yourself, here, with me…”_

* * *

It should have been easy. As he held out that dagger, eyes boring into hers, waiting, trusting, different than they once were but still so full of love for her, the choice shouldn’t have been difficult. She should have taken that dagger, flipped it around, and stabbed him through the heart as surely as his actions had stabbed through hers.

The choice should have been a simple one. But no decision she had made or would make could ever be as difficult as this one.

He was her cousin, her _Constantin_. The person she had grown up with, shared memories with. He protected her as surely as she protected him. She was his closest friend and confidant, and he hers. They were family. They loved each other. But what he was proposing… it was unthinkable, deplorable. His plans were horrific, and she almost could not reconcile the image of her innocent, boyish, light-hearted cousin with this man bent on overthrowing a god… almost.

As much as she loved her cousin, she knew his faults. He was impatient with others, often falling to whimsy and getting himself into trouble. He had grand ambitions and, before the malichor, great plans for New Sérène. It was to be their city, as much Constantin’s as it was hers, but from the moment it was revealed that he had the malichor... 

Constantin had been devastated - they _both_ had. It was a death sentence, but he was too young, and she couldn’t imagine life without him... She threw herself into finding a cure, more urgent now that Constantin’s life was on the line. Each time she returned from a lead with nothing to show for it, she saw how the disease marked him more and more. He tried to keep a brave face, but the pain that inevitably followed the progression of the disease must have been unbearable. Worse, she was only able to be by his side rarely, ever chasing the promise of a cure. She should have been there for him more, should have noticed that the sickness had taken a toll, not only on his body, but on his mind.

She supposed the fear of death, of feeling himself wither and rot away, had changed him. She wasn’t certain if she wouldn’t have felt the same, if it were her. So, refusing to think about what had to happen when she found him, she had followed his trail. Ever since they were children together, there was nowhere he could go that she could not follow. So she tracked him down, here, to the heart of the island - only to discover that he planned to make them _gods_.

She stood, staring at him, his skin marked by the disease that almost stole him from her, but whole, and hale, and _here_.

"Constantin," she pleaded.

"Think of it, Cousin… we could be free, _truly_ _free_ , at last."

Heart pounding in her chest, fresh sweat prickling under her arms, she did.

She thought of Aphra and her desire to make the world better through science. How earnestly the young woman tried to learn and understand the ways of the island natives, rejecting her kinsmen’s cruelty. She thought of Petrus, and how he had been a source of guidance from her youth and now into her adulthood. Although he had hidden the truth about her birth mother from her, he had more than made up the betrayal by helping her find her aunt.

She thought of Síora, who had become something like a sister over the last several months. It had taken time, but after the doneigad overcame her mistrust, she never hesitated to help de Sardet better understand her people. She thought of Kurt and how he had shaped her into the formidable fighter she was today. The surly captain had always been a step behind her, a blade in front of her, or a sparring partner for over half her life now. He had taught her and Constantin both how to defend themselves, how to spot the threats lingering in the shadows. She never would have gotten this far without him or his teachings.

And she thought of Vasco, her captain, her Naut, her anchor. He called her Tempest, but she felt more like the ship in a storm, fighting to stay afloat. As Tír Fradí scraped away at her hull and battered her sails, he had kept her upright and sailing, whether that meant being another gun at her side or a shoulder to lean on. She thought of their last kiss, his body bracing hers, giving her the strength to go forward.

But then he sent her off, just like Aphra, Kurt, and Síora before him. He knew how hard this was for her, how much she agonized over hunting her cousin… or at least she thought he did. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Aphra, Kurt, Síora, Vasco, Petrus- they each abandoned her one after the other, finally sending her off on her own.

And so it was just de Sardet and Constantin, alone together, as it always was.

The Prince, his wife, and her mother had always been there, of course. The Prince d’Orsay treated her as one would a favored niece, ensuring she had the best tutors and trainers available alongside his son, but he and his wife were always distant, especially towards Constantin. They were provided with the best, not out of love, but out of duty. De Sardet knew this to be especially true after discovering her true parentage. The Princess d’Orsay, her mother in all ways but blood, was always loving, and Kurt had been in their lives longer than he had not. But for all they guided her into adulthood, they were not her peers.

No, the other young people of her uncle’s court were ever distant, content to remain mere acquaintances with the Prince's disappointment and his peculiar niece. Any who attempted to get closer seemed only to have matrimony, and the Prince's large fortune, in mind. They quickly found that their efforts were in vain, however, for neither she nor her cousin were interested in false friendship. After all, they had each other, and that was enough.

If she did this… if she bound herself to Constantin, to the island, to en on míl frichtimen’s power, she need never worry about such things again. No longer would she need to worry about the cold, calculating gaze of the Prince or the machinations of his wife. She could forget about curious glances and looks of disgust. She and Constantin need never make polite conversation with the snakes that populated the courts of the continent, never again would they have to bow and curry favors with the other nations. They could chase the Bridge and Thélème, the Congregation, even the Nauts, back across the ocean. It could be theirs, this island - their new home - and they could continue on, together, as they always had.

There must have been a period in her life before Constantin, of course, but de Sardet herself could not remember a time when he did not have her back, nor she his. She had been there to pull him down from the city's walls, and he had bloodied the nose of the boy who called her ugly. They began together, she and Constantin, and they would end together.

One way or another.

She gripped the knife tightly, leather glove creaking. She searched her dear cousin's face one more time, drinking in the changes both the malichor and his bonding had wrought in him. He smiled gently at her, patient as ever, and she wondered then if she'd ever really had a choice.

“Come,” he said, extending his hand.

The sting of the blade was sharp and immediate, bright red blood welling to the surface. Someone inhaled sharply.

De Sardet clenched her fingers around Constantin’s arm, holding him steady even as she thrust the knife further into his stomach. He gasped.

_“What a shame.”_

The air screamed around them and the nádaig roared, but de Sardet held fast to her cousin as the power he’d stolen rushed out of him to return to its rightful owner. His body was tense in her arms, eyes fixed sightlessly on some distant point, mouth open in a soundless cry. And then all at once it was over and the air grew quiet, hushed. Constantin’s eyes rolled to fix on her, one final pained gasp on his lips. Then he was limp and heavy in her arms, and together they fell.

Constantin was dead when they hit the ground.

De Sardet tugged the glove from her hand, and with trembling fingers she brushed back the hair from his face.

“Good night, sweet prince,” she murmured.

Exhausted, de Sardet sat heavily next to her cousin’s body. The guardian panted some yards away, apparently resting a moment before returning to its proper place by the great tree. She couldn’t find it in herself care.

De Sardet fell back to lie on the ground, strength leaving her altogether. She shut her eyes against the light, but she could still see the last look of disbelief on his face.

_Why?_

“I’m sorry, Constantin,” she whispered. “You finally went somewhere I could not follow.”

* * *

_“…and we will be gods together, forever.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not shared any of my written work for years now, and although this is certainly not polished, I wanted to contribute something to this small fandom. Hopefully someone somewhere enjoys it even just a little.


	2. Chapter 2

_“All you have to do is bind yourself, here, with me…”_

* * *

...

There must have been a period in her life before Constantin, of course, but de Sardet herself could not remember a time when he did not have her back, nor she his. She had been there to pull him down from the city's walls, and he had bloodied the nose of the boy who called her ugly. They began together, she and Constantin, and they would end together.

One way or another.

She gripped the knife tightly, leather glove creaking. She searched her dear cousin's face one more time, drinking in the changes both the malichor and his bonding had wrought in him. He smiled gently at her, patient as ever, and she wondered then if she'd ever really had a choice.

“Come,” he said, extending his hand.

The sting of the blade was sharp and immediate, bright red blood welling to the surface. Someone inhaled sharply.

She clenched her hand, now freely bleeding, and looked to Constantin for reassurance. He smiled.

“ _Trust me_.”

De Sardet clasped her hand with his and he drew her in close, holding her together even as she threatened to fall apart. She hid her face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent as she had done a hundred times before, while he rested his head on hers, hand cradling the back of her neck.

"You won't regret this, Cousin."

She let out a shaky breath, knees weak and legs trembling, but Constantin hugged her tightly. As a strong wind grew and the earth trembled violently under their feet, his grip never faltered.

She knew he would never let her fall.

* * *

_“…and we will be gods together, forever.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I have not shared any of my written work for years now, and although this is certainly not polished, I wanted to contribute something to this small fandom. Hopefully someone somewhere enjoys it even just a little.


End file.
